


Click

by MykEsprit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EWE, F/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 01:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/pseuds/MykEsprit
Summary: Ron tries to go to his best friends, who disappeared in Thanos' wake.





	Click

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Enchanted Wonders, hosted by Hermione's Haven. Thank you to the mods of this event!

_Click_.

 _Click_.

 _Click_.

“I think your lighter’s dead.” The voice can’t be described as feminine; for the word brings to mind softness and warmth, like a freshly laundered blanket on a cold, dark night. Rather, that voice is the winter air--piercing. Severe.

Intimidating--if one is the sort that gets easily cowed. But Ron Weasley has seen far too much in his life to be daunted by anyone.

Even someone like Natasha Romanoff.

“It’s not a lighter,” he mumbles. “Not really.” In the corner of his eye, she moves towards him. He slides along the fallen tree trunk to make room for her.

“Sure looks like one to me.” She perches beside him, glancing at the cylindrical object in his hand. “Why are you trying to light a campfire so late? Everyone’s already asleep.” She nudges her chin to the shadowed lumps scattered in their small clearing.

Draco Malfoy sleeps fitfully near the base of a tree, his hair bleached white in the moonlight. Several feet away, Steve Rogers wraps a bulky arm over Pansy Parkinson’s form as they both slumber. There are a handful of others around them, tucked into their thin sleeping bags, some lightly snoring.

No one thought to assign a guard; they didn’t need it. No one would dare attack a group of witches and wizards. Especially with the Avengers in their midst.

What was left of them.

“It’s not a campfire,” he says under his breath.

Her sharp ears pick it up, anyway. “Forgive me,” she replies, stretching her legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “So what are you doing with this not-a-lighter while you sit in front of this not-a-campfire?”

Ron gazes at the log he had laid over the ashes of that night’s fire. “It’s…” He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

For a moment, they sit in silence, nothing but the soft rustle of wind through bare branches filling the night. Then, Nat stands up stiffly, her expression flat and unyielding like a cement wall.

She has marched three steps away before he says, “It’s a Yule log.”

Nat halts.

“It’s something my family,”--his voice breaks at the last word--”does every Christmas. Light the Yule log.” His eyes flicks up at Nat, who peers at him over her shoulder with hooded eyes.

“And you think I wouldn’t understand because I don’t have a family?” Her green eyes flash.

“Not at all.” With a deep sigh, Ron gets to his feet and takes a tentative step towards her. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about what I said. It’s just that…” He glances at the object in his hand; the corners of his lips turn downward. “One Christmas--a long time ago--my friends needed me. We were on a quest like this one. To defeat the bad guy. To save lives.” He looks up at her, and embarrassment and regret tinge his face red. “I had abandoned them. Left because…” He huffs a mirthless laugh. “A lot of reasons. Reasons that don’t matter anymore. But I left them when they needed me the most, and it’s something that I’d never been able to forgive myself for.”

With her arms crossed over her chest, Nat closes the gap between them. Her face is as blank as a canvass, and its lack of judgment gives Ron the courage to continue.

“One night, I heard them. Harry and Hermione. Well, mostly Hermione.” A hesitant smile tugs on his lips. Nat arches an eyebrow, and Ron raises his hands up. “Not like that. Well, a little bit like that. But, obviously, before…” Briefly, his eyes flutter to Draco’s sleeping form. “Anyway, that was a long time ago.” He hands Nat the Deluminator and slides his empty hands in his pockets. “One night, I heard her voice loud and clear. Like she was standing right next to me. Calling to me. Coming out of _that_.”

She turns the object in her hand, studying it.

“And then when I clicked it--” Ron whispers, as though speaking of a miracle from the gods. Which was how it felt, at that point. The lowest point in his life, when he loathed himself for his jealousy and cowardice. “It brought me to her. To both of them.” He hangs his head and stares at the barren ground. “I guess I just--I thought maybe--”

“You thought maybe it would work.” She cradles the Deluminator in her palm and lifts it to the level of her eyes. “That it would bring you to them.”

He nods once.

She offers the Deluminator back to him. “They’re gone,” she says. “Not even dead. They just don’t exist anymore.” Despite her words, her tone is gentle; full of understanding.

Because she does understand, he realizes, as he takes in their small number in the clearing. She knows what it’s like to be flanked by trusted comrades. To live and work side by side with people so close that it feels like they’re extensions of himself. And how their absence leaves a space around him so suffocating that he can’t breathe.

She understands, because he sees the emptiness surrounding her, too.

“Here.” She reaches out her arm, the Deluminator in her upturned palm. Her green eyes are shuttered and forlorn.

It reminds him of another pair of green eyes on a similar winter night. His heart squeezes at the memory of his best friends.

“Keep it.” He closes her fingers around the Deluminator and gives her a lopsided smile. “Maybe it just needs a recharge. You never know--maybe, one day, it will work for you.”

A glimmer of hope lights up in her eyes.

* * *

 

The explosions had stopped minutes ago. At least, she thinks they did. It is hard to hear with the ringing in her ears. The moonless night makes it difficult to see anything--especially with the blanket of smoke covering the area, heavy with the smell of burnt metal and flesh.

Nat pulls herself up to her knees. Going in, she knew it was a suicide mission. But they were desperate, their numbers dwindling with each passing day.

They needed this mission to succeed. They needed this win.

And, as she unfurls her fingers, the green Time Stone flashing in her palm, she knows this is going to _finally_ give them the upper hand.

Now, her only problem is to get the hell off this planet and go home.

The silence is listless--like something is searching for her in the dark, waiting for her to make a move. Nat freezes in place while her mind races.

Out of the dark, a voice calls out. “Nat.”

Her breath hitches. She knows that voice. Ron.

“Nat.”

The Deluminator, hanging from a thin chain on her neck, grows warm. She pulls it out and stares at it wide-eyed.

“Nat.” A whisper; an invocation.

With unsteady fingers, she flips the lid open. “Ron. I’m coming home.” She takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut.

_Click._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments/Kudos are appreciated!


End file.
